Six
by jervaulx
Summary: Mamiru. A brother's love. How convenient it was that he'd received the news at six o'clock.


_disclaimer: i do not own Kin'iro no Corda_

**Six**

A phone rang in the distance, its reiterate ring echoing throughout the hallways of a majestically structured, Georgian-inspired manor standing erect in large piece of land. Its liveliness and elegance seemed a long ago memory from the state of desertion of the place, however, belying its serene façade. Along the pavement were old oak trees lined in two columns facing one another as though to welcome any guests, and a garden bed of exotic flower overlooking the gazebo sat just behind it, some of it having wilted after a weeks' inattention. Separating the trees, located in front of the house, was a fountain of scampering angels, its water no longer running and turning murky each passing day.

From within, heavy male footsteps descended down the wide staircases, taking steps two at a time. It was the owner of the house. His carefully maintained raven hair were ruffled as though he had tugged on it for hours, his face growing stubble, and there were dark circles beneath his midnight blue eyes, supporting the idea that he had not much sleep in days. Even his tailored top and trousers were creased on the sides. Everything about him bespoke of man's desperation—or a brother's anxiety.

He reached the landing half a minute later and crossed the distance separating him and the still ringing phone in scant a second. It was the fifth ring. He stood before it for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm his beating heart. When he answered the phone, his tone was patently optimistic. Sixth ring.

"Good afternoon. This is Mori Mamiru speaking."

Silence. Then a ragged breath. "Detective." His voice was weary, old, resigned. Much the same as when someone accepted their horrible fate.

Mamiru's heart stopped, cold sweat trickling down his brow. "A-Any news?" He sounded strangely breathless and he understood not why. _He hasn't said anything yet_, he told himself. _There's nothing to be worried of_. And yet he knew, from the back of his mind, he knew. It filled him with dread.

The detective must have detected the vulnerability of his tone because he hesitated by a heartbeat. His voice was devoid of emotion when he explained: "We found her. In a warehouse just behind her old apartment. No sign of physical harm or anything. There were no signs of weapons within the vicinity either. We saw no other living creatures around. We had the dogs sniff the area and found nothing out of the ordinary." He sighed.

But Mamiru heard nothing beyond _apartment_. He wanted to laugh then, the irony of everything, the enormity of the situation weighing down on his shoulders. For six whole days they have searched for her, looking for her everywhere and tracking her steps in the past few days until the fateful day she had vanished on Earth. He was part of the search team until yesterday when the Prosecutor had _ordered_ him to sleep the night away before he collapse and go mad.

_We're professional, _the man had argued_. We know the procedures, we know the rule. It's no use working your head on this matter if you can't think straight, think of anything sensible. If you want us to hurry and solve this case then do us a favour and go home. I don't want endangering more people, especially you._

He did as he was told, though not with the lack of trying. Then, hours later, they'd tell him this? That they found her in a warehouse? _ Behind her old apartment, no less!_

Suddenly sick to the core, he slid down on the floor. With his free hand cradling his head, his shoulders hunched defeatedly, he asked, "How?"

The old man was quick to catch. "A call. Half an hour before. My assistant answered it. She said the caller was female and sounded young, reckon between twenty and twenty-five. We're doing our best to track her down. But right now, we're depending on luck to lead us to the caller. We will do our best to make further investigation." A pause. "We have searched the warehouse days before, you remember, and we've seen not a trace of your sister's. Then, just now we've found her. The team has formulated a theory over the bizarre turn of events. We think whoever called must have been involved, placed her there. I know this isn't the right time but... do you anyone from ages twenty to twenty-five who might bear a grudge or animosity to your sister?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head even though the detective could not see him. "No." He was not thinking straight anymore. His sister was one and twenty and most of her friends were by that age group, but he couldn't imagine anyone harming her—she was best friends with everyone, he knew, and saw it to himself. _Who would dare lay a finger on her?_ At the thought, he was overcome by panic. Who would, indeed?

Mamiru heard the faint wails of ambulance, then the old man directing orders on someone to _give way_. "Understood. The paramedics has just arrived."

The detective was suddenly silent on the other line and Mamiru could almost see his chain of thought. He wanted him to ask the _question_. It was the moment Mamiru dreaded the most. His chest heaving, palms sweating and shoulders shaking, he opened his mouth.

"And Manami?"

"She's... gone. I'm sorry, Mori-san."

The bass chime of the grand clock filled the halls and the mansion, its song ominous and foreboding. Loosely clutching the phone with the detective on the line, Mamiru Mori cried openly for the first time in six days. Never-ending tears flowed from his eyes coming deep within his heart and he was lost in a world of the souls. No matter how he tried to stop, to tell himself that the pain would pass, it continued caressing his cheeks.

Because in his mind he saw his little sister with her golden brown hair and blue eyes so similar to his, and in a voice so tiny and sweet she declared, "Onii-san will always protect me, neh?"

And then he heard his own voice, childlike yet strong. "Yes. Onii-san will always be there for you. _Always_."

He had broken that promise the minute he'd let her wander in this twisted society.

The old detective, listening to his client's heart wrenching sobs, felt his own aged heart break into two. This was a first in his experience, for a young and versatile lad to cry over the loss of a dear sister.

He glanced at his watch. He'd broken the news five minutes ago.

It had been six o'clock in the evening. It was sixth day of the sixth month, June.

* * *

**.**

Author's Note  
_I don't know why I wrote this. I just felt like it.  
HAHAHA. And yes, sorry for the AU-ness._  
_Second take on crime. Or at least, crime-related._  
_Should I or should I not write a next chapter revealing the murder?_

_Tell me what you think? ;)_

_This explains the awesomeness of jervaulx!_


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